


meeting when we meet

by psychobabblers



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Team as Family, Victorian Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychobabblers/pseuds/psychobabblers
Summary: In which Captain Steven Rogers tracks a mysterious man with a clockwork arm through a world where Cities roam freely and ghouls and other fantastical creatures stalk the earth. Here, there be monsters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Written for Fandom Trumps Hate 2018. Many thanks to my generous donor and thank you so much for your patience :)

Captain Steven Rogers barely felt the biting cold as he silently slid toward the City of Berlin at breakneck speed. His mind was intent on the mission ahead. Beside him, Lieutenant James Barnes swung silently, eyes scanning for threats, teeth bared in a vicious grin as he caught sight of Zolo’s train as it snaked around the looming spires of the City. It was exactly as they had planned.

The rest of the Howling Commandos were waiting behind, ready for extraction. The City of Berlin had wandered into Russian territory and the cold that did not affect him or Bucky might have killed them whether through exposure or slowed reaction time. But Steve and Bucky were not normal men, and today they would take Zolo down once and for all.

Soldiers began pouring out of the side of the train as soon they landed on its roof. Steve carved a path through them as Bucky picked off shooters hidden in the muggy windows they hurtled past. First chance they had, they ducked into the train compartment and began moving toward the front where their informant had told them Zolo would be. 

“You hear that?” Bucky asked, tilting his head, and then Steve could make out the sound too when he looked for it, the loud creaking groan of a Clockwork Soldier. He felt a familiar sense of dread. Bucky took a step toward the sound and suddenly Steve was staggered by a gripping terror, a terror that echoed in his heart as if it had always been there.

“Bucky, wait! Don’t!” he reached out a hand, uselessly, as the Clockwork Soldier blasted the door away and Bucky stumbled, a look of shock on his face that Steven had seen a thousand times, and fell. The wind carried away his screams.

“Captain!” Someone is shaking him, the voice deceptively light and feminine, but he knew there was steel under it. “Wake up.”

Steve lurched into a sitting position, reality dropping like a stone over the half dream state he’d been in. The Lady Romanoff was standing next to him, dressed in her characteristic pants instead of full skirt, obviously not caring about the impropriety of her being in his room alone as he was sleeping, and he tried to resist the urge to pull the blankets over his shoulders. He was still new to the ways of this time but he had fought by her side and respected her skill in combat as well as her blunt personality.

“A bad dream,” he said when she appeared to look him over.

“About your Lieutenant?” she asked and he sighed. “Actually I had come to speak to you about him. Why don’t you get dressed, and come join me in the sitting room when you are presentable?”

Lady Romanoff had come to speak to him about Bucky? That was certainly interesting, to say the least. She was a defector from the City of Moscow and still had contacts from its territory, and Bucky had fallen somewhere in that massive region. It had taken Steve’s own City decades to find him buried in the snow. Perhaps she had heard rumor that someone else had been discover _ e _ d on the Dirt, the limitless sprawl of deserted land, filled with ghouls and other monsters, that the great Cities of the world walked on.

He hurriedly pulled on a shirt and some pants, socks and shoes after she daintily stepped out of the room. The maze of rooms in this massive house still confused him, but he thought he remembered the way to the sitting room, assuming she had meant the main one. Mr. Stark’s house seemed to change its layout every so often, as the great gears in the City’s heart seemed to somehow be connected to this house. It was a vastly different world from the one Steve and Bucky had grown up in, even without the decades he had lost in the ice. 

In the end he needn’t have worried, as his memory didn’t fail him and he found himself in the correct sitting room where she was waiting. He took a seat on a plush couch opposite to where Lady Romanoff was seated, eyes drawn to the beautiful paintings in their gilded frames that decorated the walls. The wan afternoon light attempted to filter through the windows that, even here in one of the wealthiest houses of the City, were still covered in a layer of grime. 

“Take a look at this, Captain,” Lady Romanoff said, passing him a photograph. Steve took the stiff paper, marveling at the quality of the image even though it was still grainy and blurred. The image had been taken of a subject in motion, and Steve hadn’t even known that was possible. It showed a man with long hair, a mask covering the lower half of his face, and an arm that on closer inspection looked to be made of clockwork. 

_ Bucky _ . Steve’s heart leapt as soon as he laid eyes on the sunken eyes of the man in the photograph, even as his mind tried to rationalize why it couldn’t possibly be him. 

“Where was this taken?” he asked, and he was glad that his voice was steady.

“In the City of London,” Lady Romanoff replied. “About a week ago.”

“What was he doing there?”

“The ‘Winter Soldier’, as they call him,” she said, “has been assassinating notable figures in various Cities. No one terribly important, but enough to cause a stir in the underworld.”

Steve frowned. “Lieutenant Barnes would never have done that.”

“The world has changed greatly while you were frozen, Captain,” she said gently. “New horrors and new mysteries brought to light. The Russians are skilled in both. His mind may not be his own, even if he is your Lieutenant.”

“I’m going after him,” Steve said, making up his mind even as the words left his mouth. 

Lady Romanoff didn’t attempt to persuade him otherwise, as he’d thought she might. She simply nodded. “He was last spotted heading west, toward the Waste. That report is five days old.”

_ The Waste _ , Steve thought. In a land crawling with monsters, the Waste was the one place where cartographers actually chose to mark with, “Here, there be monsters.” He nodded his thanks to her and went back to his room to pack his meager possessions. The good thing about not owning much was that he could be ready to move on a moment’s notice. He grabbed his shield, a change of clothes, and, after a moment’s thought, his old uniform, and stored it all neatly into a pack, tying his bedroll on top.

He was in the kitchens and pantries to pick up some non perishables as well when Mr. Stark wandered in, hands in his pockets. “I was told you were leaving,” he said. Mr. Stark and Lady Romanoff were alike in many ways, Steve thought. Their smiles both had knives in them. 

“I am,” Steve replied, even though there had been no question in Mr. Stark’s tone. 

“”Does the Colonel know?” Mr. Stark leaned against the doorway, posture deceptively casual.

Steve stiffened. “I know you and I have had our differences, Mr. Stark,” he began, but Mr. Stark interrupted him.

“Anthony, please. We’ve fought in battle together; I’m sure we are past the formalities at this point. And you misunderstand me,” Mr. Stark said. “I only meant to offer some aid.” He tossed something to Steve, who caught it without breaking eye contact. “You’re headed out onto the Dirt, towards the Waste, tracking a man who could very well just turn out to have you next on his hit list.”

Steve looked at the object he’d caught. It was a small brass sphere that seemed to be made of interlocking parts. Somehow, it glowed with an inner light. “What is this?”

“A trinket,” Mr. Stark said with a smile. “A beacon to guide you home or request aid.”

_ Home. _ Steven smiled suddenly, feeling something in his heart lighten. “Thank you. Anthony,” he said.

The next bit was harder. He had to find his way down the narrow winding corridors of the bowels of the City. The reminder that they all lived on a giant moving monstrosity of machinery that crawled over a barren, poisoned land was much more pronounced here in the underworld. Great gears cranked slowly overhead and steam whistled out of little holes in a rhythm almost like breathing. A layer of smog settled over everything. 

Even Steve did not feel completely at ease here. He had grown up poor, but he and Bucky had always managed to eke out enough of a living to afford to stay above the forgotten depths. And he felt there were other things, inhuman things, down here. He could sense it in the prickling between his shoulder blades. 

He quickened his step but kept his footing sure and solid, making sure his ears stayed keen. Down and down he went, the corridor narrowing to the point that he had to flatten himself against the wall on the increasingly rare occasion someone was going the other way. The air was getting dryer and no steam whistled here. He was perhaps three levels from the bottom when they attacked.

Fortunately he had his shield strapped over his pack and the ghoul’s claws simply glanced off, causing it to shriek with frustration. The other ghoul began slinking up the side of the wall. Ghouls? Here, in the City? He could think about the ramifications later though. The narrow corridor was not a good place to fight. 

He knocked the one from the wall to the ground as it leapt at him, and then kicked it hard in the face before it could get up again, feeling cartilage crumpled under the force of the blow. Hopefully he could take the other down without having to unstrap his shield. It was difficult to watch his back especially in a corridor. 

Especially without Bucky.

Only a lifetime of living on the streets of the City and then having those instincts honed by combat allowed Steve to sense another ghoul sneaking behind him from the darkened stairs. He turned just in time to deflect as it went for his legs and out of the corner of his eye he saw the other prepare to leap as well. 

“Hey!” The shout rang across. The one that had been about to leap whirled and Steve used the opportunity to knock out the one that had tried to sneak up on him. 

The clear bang of a gun rang out and the remaining ghoul dropped dead. Steve warily straightened from his fighting stance. 

“You alright?” a man hurried down the stairs. 

“I’m fine,” Steve said. “Thanks for the save.”

He noticed the man eyeing the shield and visibly refrain from commenting. Instead, he stuck out his hand for Steve to shake. “Samuel Wilson,” he said, “but call me Sam. I haven’t had the patience for standing on ceremony in awhile.”

“Steven Rogers,” he replied, shaking it. “Steve.”

“Nasty graze you got there,” Sam said.

Steve followed his gaze and realized he had not completely managed to deflect the ghoul who’d attacked him from behind. Luckily poisons and infections had a significantly reduced effect on him but ghoul wounds were still not something to take lightly.

“My place is actually right around the corner,” Sam said. “Let me patch you up.”

Steve wavered but gave in. He felt like he could trust him, and he usually had good instincts where people were concerned. And his instincts told him that this Samuel Wilson was a good man. Besides, it was obvious that he had done this before as he helped him up the stairs, settled him on his narrow couch and pulled out his medical supplies.

“I didn’t know that ghouls ever got into the City,” Steve said, as Sam cleaned his wound, efficient and professional. 

“Used to be they didn’t,” Sam said. “Of the non human variety anyway. What brings you down here, Captain?”

Steve lifted an eyebrow at the sardonic twist to the other man’s mouth. 

“I’m headed for the Dirt,” he said. “Thought it’d be easier to slip out a door than jump off a tower. Guess I thought wrong.” He didn’t ask why he was living down in the depths though he wondered. The man had an ex-military air about him.

“The Dirt?” Sam exhaled slowly, eyes focused on stitching up Steve’s wound. Stitches or no stitches, Steve would heal quickly, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn down medical attention.

“I’m looking for someone,” Steve said. “Someone I lost long ago.” He wasn’t sure why he told him, wasn’t even sure if it was a good idea. But Sam seemed trustworthy, and Steve was in need of someone to trust. Besides, his instincts rarely failed him. 

Sam eyed him thoughtfully, probably putting together the pieces in his head. “You’re looking for Sergeant Barnes.”

Steve shrugged. “If it’s even him.”

“I know what it is like to lose someone and then hold out hope that they might still be alive, somehow, somewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, hoping his sincerity shown through the useless words.

Sam nodded. “It almost hurt just as bad when I finally accepted that he wasn’t coming back as it did when I first lost him.” He pointed to a small photograph, framed and standing on te side table. It showed Sam with his arm slung over another man’s shoulders on yellowing paper. They were both wearing flight helmets and goggles pushed up above their eyes, clockwork wings attached. The wings were a fascinatingly complex piece of machinery. Anthony would probably love to examine it. “My wingman. We never found his body.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said again. “But I have to try.”

Sam smiled a little, sadly. “I wish you luck on your search, Captain.”

“Thank you for the timely rescue,” Steve replied. “If you ever wanted to fly again, there’s a place for you among the Avengers.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll think about it. I don’t want to go too high and forget about the little people down here though.”

“I’ll see what I can do for them when I return,” Steve said. “I didn’t start out much higher than here.”

He bid Sam farewell and set off down the steps once more, mentally plotting out the route he’d have to take in his head. There was a map rolled up in his pack but he knew this territory well enough that he could make it several miles at least before he needed to pull it out. At that moment the glow of the small device Anthony had given him caught his eye and he smiled. He was not without friends in this new and strange world. Stark and the Lady Romanoff and Sam and the other Avengers. When he found Bucky he would have a home and family to offer him too. 

Running footsteps distracted him from his thoughts. He turned to see Sam round the bend of the steps. He had a pack slung over his shoulder.

“Thought you might want a point man,” Sam said. “Since you’re still looking for yours.”

Steve smiled, feeling a lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Thank you Sam,” he said. 

He opened the small door that led out to the Dirt. Here was the very bottom of the City of New York. They looked at each other for a moment, and then stepped out onto the vast, dying land. The door clicked shut behind them.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It was immediately obvious that Sam was experienced with the Dirt. Steve wouldn’t have accepted his help if he’d thought otherwise, but it was still reassuring to see someone quietly confident in their abilities watching his back. Steve had fought with the Avengers, and despite their kindnesses, he’d missed having that unique relationship in battle with another person that he knew was making his safety a priority, and vice versa. He hadn’t had that since Bucky. 

They moved quickly and directly away from the path the City of New York had traveled. Monsters, and ghouls especially, were attracted to machinery, and the roving Cities were loud, massive targets that couldn’t be missed. Most had, however, learned to follow some distance behind. Steve didn’t want to be around when they caught up, and he doubted Sam did either. As soon as they’d moved far enough, they stopped to scrub their clothes and skin with dust. Even this far away the City was still monstrously large. With his enhanced hearing Steve could hear the bloodcurdling shrieks of ghouls in the distance. 

“Time to move,” he said. Sam looked in the direction of his gaze and nodded.

Steve pulled out his map and tapped the spot they were at, according to his calculations on the trajectory of the City and the time they had stepped off and moved away. “Bu—Sergeant Barnes was last seen here,” Steve said. As comfortable as he felt around Sam already, it wouldn’t do to let his guard slip on his affection for Bucky. Sam either didn’t notice or didn’t comment.

“And moving this way,” he continued, drawing his finger across the map.

“So the intercept point is here,” Sam said, tapping a spot.

“Looks like it,” Steve said. “Not too late to turn back.”

Sam gave him a sharp grin. “Turn back? I’m having the time of my life.”

Steve laughed. They started walking. 

It was oddly hypnotic in a way. Steve didn’t let his guard down, of course, since doing that out in the Dirt could mean death in a flash, but it was definitely a change of pace after being cooped up in the City for so long. There was no press of people here and the ever present hum of machinery was replaced by stillness. The world was so  _ vast _ , especially to a kid from Brooklyn. Despite his years of experience in the field, Steve was still overwhelmed sometimes by the reminder of how tiny he was against the backdrop of the Dirt.

Eventually, Sam broke the silence to ask him about the recent ghoul attack and they fell into a comfortable banter. Steve was still grateful that Sam had volunteered to come. He worked well alone but he knew his true strength came within a team. 

“You should think about joining the Avengers when we get back,” Steve said. 

“It’s an interesting idea,” Sam allowed. “I don’t have any superpowers though. Or flying mechanical suits.”

“You’ve got your wings,” Steve said, nodding to the straps over his shoulders that held the pack with his wings.

Sam shrugged. “I do good work down in the depths too.”

“I meant what I said earlier,” Steve said. “I will help you with that. Being an Avenger isn’t just about fighting monsters or the big battles. It’s standing up for the little guy and doing what’s right no matter what.”

Sam laughed. “You don’t need to give me the sales pitch.”

Steve grinned. “I’m sure you got enough of that in the service.”

“Damn straight,” Sam said and then they fell silent again for several miles. Steve thought of this “Winter Soldier.” The hope that he was Bucky was the only thing driving him forward. He hadn’t realized how empty his life since he’d awoken in a strange new time had been until he had something to fight for again. But Lady Romanoff had also said that the Soldier had been assassinating key figures in the City of London. That didn’t sound much like Bucky at all. If the Soldier  _ was  _ Bucky, and he really had assassinated a bunch of people… Steve grit his teeth at what they must have done to him in order for them to get Bucky to do what they wanted. Bucky was the most stubborn man Steve had ever met, other than himself. He was also loyal to a fault. He would never have willingly betrayed his country. 

“You alright there, Captain?” Sam asked. 

“Just thinking about the Winter Soldier,” Steve said. “I’m wondering if he even is Sergeant Barnes.”

“It does sound like a long shot,” Sam agreed.

Steve glanced at him, surprised. “Why’d you decide to come with me?”

Sam shrugged. “I thought you needed someone to watch your back. I used to be special forces after all, and before that I was a combat medic. I’ve also been told I’m good company. Seemed like most of my skills would be useful to you. And I wasn’t about to let some guy, Captain America or not, wander out into the Dirt alone.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had someone to watch my back.”

That was the way it went for the rest of their first day out on the Dirt. An endless march across the vast open plain and snatches of conversation. Just like Steve remembered.

It didn’t last of course. 

The ghoul pack stumbled on them while they were getting ready to move out the next morning. They’d almost finished packing when the first shriek rang out. “Oh shit,” Sam said. 

Steve pulled out his shield. “Might be time for some air cavalry.”

“You got it,” Sam said and pulled some of the strange levers on this pack. Metal creaked and groaned as the wings slowly spread out. Sam put on a flight helmet complete with goggles. Steve ran forward as Sam began climbing the large boulder they had taken shelter against and slammed the edge of his shield into the first ghoul’s face. Steve readied himself to cover Sam’s launch. The first ghoul staggered into reach and immediately toppled as Steve struck. Out here, with freedom of movement and rocks formations to bounce his shield off of, Steve found it much easier to sink into the rhythm of the fight than it had been in the narrow corridor. He was taking them down with ease. However, there were many more of them than the three.  _ Dodge, punch, block, throw _ . On and on it went, like a deadly dance. Dimly he was aware the Sam had made it into the air and was taking them down in swoops around him. 

It was grimly satisfying to feel his fist connect against rough skin stretched over hard bone. The ghouls growled as they charged him dumbly, no sense of cooperation among them. Still, they needed to end this fight quickly, before one of them was injured by a lucky hit. They had to be in top shape if they wanted to take down the Winter Soldier. The ghouls were relentless, mindlessly attacking, and it seemed like more were appearing for every one they brought down. Steve staggered as a ghoul bowled into him. More were on him in a second, sensing weakness. He grabbed at snapping jaws as a ghoul lunged, holding them apart.

“Sam!” He shouted, grappling with the ghoul. The others circled as if waiting for a cue. “A little help?”

“On it,” Sam yelled back. Steve was sure he was only able to hear because of his enhanced hearing. The ghoul was suddenly ripped from his grasp as Sam crashed into it, and veered sharply up to get clear of the rest of them. 

The ghouls leaped as one toward Steve — who threw the shield in a spinning, deadly arc. 

“Behind!” Someone shouted, and Steve instinctively dove for the ground and rolled, A cloud of dust puffed up where he’d been, kicked up by a ghoul’s claws smashed deep into the ground. A moment later it slumped over, gurgling, an arrow sticking out of its neck. Another whizzed by him, and another. Ghouls fell left and right. Not just from arrows, but from knife wounds. The Black Widow had joined the fight. 

Steve through himself back into the fray. Ghouls were dumb, but they still had the basic fight or flight instinct. This was quickly turning into a flight situation for them. Sure enough, the smallest of them that were still standing peeled away and loped off into the distance. The rest soon followed. Steve wiped his hands on his pants. The stillness after the live motion of the fight was unnerving in a way. It was the way of the Dirt though, barren and lifeless one moment, teeming with dangerous energy the next whether from a dust storm or a ravenous pack of ghouls.

“Lady Romanoff,” Steve called out. She inclined her head. “And Mister Barton. Thank you for your assistance.”

Sam had landed near him. Lady Romanoff stared at him, assessing.

“This is Wilson,” Steve said .”A friend and a good man.”

“Barton,” the archer said, stepping forward with hand outstretched, an easy smile on his face. Sam shook it. 

“Natasha Romanoff,” the assassin said, also stepping forward with hand outstretched. She was no longer wearing a dress in the City style, but rather had on form-fitting pants that did not restrict her movement.

Sam didn’t miss a beat at her Russian name or strange attire, and shook her hand the same way he had Barton. 

“What brings you out here?” Steve asked. He saw Lady Romanoff smile a little at his bluntness. 

“Saving your asses, apparently,” Barton said with a smirk.

“Somehow I doubt the City would decide to send aid for my mission,” Steve said. He crossed his arms. 

“You are correct,” Barton drawled. “We were sent to bring the Winter Soldier in.” Steve stiffened. The dead or alive was implied. “But we’ve decided to help instead.”

“Why?” Steve asked suspiciously.

Barton rolled his eyes. “Because you are our friend.” Despite himself, Steve felt warmth blossom inside him. 

That night he dreamed of Bucky again. Not the fall, thankfully, but when they were kids playing amidst the steam stacks and great gears of the City. The groaning of metal and the rusty smell of it, and Bucky’s smile flashing as he turned to look back at Steve who was chasing him was so real that when he woke up to find the charcoal smeared eyes of the Solder standing over him in the moonlight, he almost thought it was part of his dream. Then the knife flashed and Steve scrambled out of the way.

“Bucky!” he shouted, voice rough with sleep.

The Soldier froze. “Who the hell is Bucky?” he growled, and Steve’s heart sank as he mentally prepared himself to fight.

Then the Soldier slowly toppled over, and Steve looked up to see Lady Romanoff with a dart gun. 

“What did you shoot him with?” Steve asked, heart pounding. 

“Just a little cocktail to put him to sleep,” she said.

“With his metabolism he’ll be up and murderous in a few minutes,” Barton said.

“We should probably restrain him before that happens,” Sam said, looking between them. “Right?”

Hating himself a little but understanding the practicality of it, Steve nodded. Bucky would understand. And now that he could see the Soldier’s features more clearly, there was no doubt that this was Bucky. The coldness in Bucky’s eyes when he’d first seen him broke Steve’s heart. What had they done to him to make him like this? Bucky had been a fine soldier and a damn good sniper, but he’d never sunk into the endless cycle of violence that some people could never shake. There wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in him. He’d always known what they were fighting for. Now though, Steve had seen the ruthless efficiency, the casual disregard for life, both of others and Bucky himself. As if Bucky was just a bludgeon to be used for the mission.

“Bucky,” Steve murmured.

As if his name, his real name, had woken him, the Soldier’s eyes snapped open. He paused for a hair of a moment and then lunged at the closest target, who happened to be Barton. The gears in his clockwork arm whirred as he strained. Somehow, the restraints held. The Soldier settled back to study them once he realized attacking was futile. There was no curiosity, no question in his gaze —only a kind of cold assessment. 

The others looked to Steve. It  _ was _ his mission after all. He stepped forward. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, making an effort to keep his voice quiet and unthreatening. 

The Soldier just stared at him. 

“We used to fight together,” Steve tried.  _ We used to lie together, huddled for warmth and for more than mere comfort, as guns blasted and monsters screamed around us. We used to be everything to each other.  _ He swallowed hard and the Soldier’s eyes flickered. 

“Maybe he doesn’t understand English,” Barton said.

“He’s just confused,” Steve said. He clenched his fist. “They did something to him. Made him forget. Made him like this.”

“What do you want us to do now?” Sam asked.

“I’m gonna try talking to him,” Steve said. Maybe something would click and the rest would fall through. “In the meantime, set up camp and secure the perimeter.”

When the others were out of earshot, Steve sat down on the dust in front of Bucky. The Soldier glared back, hair falling in his eyes. Steve resisted the urge to brush it away from his face.

“Hey Bucky,” Steve said. The Soldier flinched ever so slightly. “You might not remember me, but I never forgot you. I thought you’d died.”

The Soldier was silent.

“We grew up together,” Steve said. “You and I, on the streets of the City of New York. For a long time you were the only person I had in the world. Do you remember it, somewhere deep down? The tall steam stacks with their plume of rank grey clouds, the grimy cobblestone streets. Our little apartment, how I was always sick, how you always cared for me?”

The Soldier looked blank and uncomprehending.

“I’m never going to give up on you, Bucky,” Steve said quietly. “Even if I have to tell you every single memory I have of us together. You’d do the same for me.”

The next morning, despite their rotated watches, the Winter Soldier was gone.

“I guess it’s progress that he didn’t slit any of our throats,” Barton commented.    
  



End file.
